


Villain Isn't a Metaphor

by falsemessiah



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood, Drugs, M/M, Murder, the dream pack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:11:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5105873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsemessiah/pseuds/falsemessiah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes drugs, sex, and cars simply aren't enough. Sometimes what you need a blunt object and person who knows none the wiser. Sometimes all you need is to have their screams fall on deaf ears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. back when we were all people

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ibuzoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibuzoo/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Kavinsky and the Dreampack as a group of serial killers](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/152891) by ibuzoo. 



          His mother didn’t even notice the screams when the boys had brought their work home, she didn’t care about the blood that ran through the floorboards and dripped down into the porous cement in the basement, she didn’t question when they were ripping up the carpet that was stained a reddish brown from the ground and burn it in the backyard. She stuck around as the knifes from the kitchen went missing and the fridge downstairs contained body parts, not a word came past her lips concerning the bloody clothes and the shower drains clogged with something when she got up in the morning.

 

          It wasn’t important. At least not to her.

 

          Their mansion sat in the middle of a couple acres of land, sitting there in seclusion from the remainder of Henrietta. Not in a place rural enough for the neighbors to come knocking with sincerity but a place in close proximity to town for people to know who that place belonged to. Her worries would have consumed her if she let it. If she could allow something like that to happen as a hollow husk of a human being.

 

          Her family had expanded after losing her husband, four other sons who would come in and kiss her on the cheek when they came in and she sat at the kitchen table with coffee that had gone cold over two hours ago sitting in her hands. And each one of them was as vicious as her own son after he had shown them the taste of something greater than what they had known. Without them, Albena was alone. So she took her medication in the morning and cleaned up after them, she washed the clothes that had been crusted in blood and swallowed her tears. Because that’s what she had to do.

 

* * *

 

 

           Nowadays there were little words between the five of them, they would sit there in a comfortable silence as there was nothing more for them to discuss after seeing the mad grins on the face of their friends as they face was speckled with blood with the red spray that splattered the walls behind them. The exhilaration was something special that they had all shared, the coke in their systems and the thrashing of their heart in their ribcage as they came together to take their latest catch apart.

 

           They gathered there, with their cars parked on the edge of a highway left in construction purgatory after the state had misplaced the funds to complete the project, and they blasted the music from their car stereos. An entire kilo of coke sat in a pile on the black hood of Jiang’s Supra, waiting to be etched out into their perfect little lines by a razorblade when the boys would gather around and take their lines before dragging the boy they wrangled in out of the back of Kavinsky’s Evo by the hair and surround him, abandoning the drugs until there was nothing left but a bloody pulp.

 

           They donned powder blue surgical gloves and masks of grotesque skulls that they would wear when shooting at each other with their BB guns. But that was all play and the only thing it left behind were bruises and welts, it was time for the real work now.

 

           Prokopenko wrung his hands over and over as he kept staring at the white car, the sound of the bass rolled through his body and shook his bones in a special way that was meant to knock any second thoughts about what they were doing out. It wasn’t working like he was hoping that it would, it had heightened his anxiety and drowned out the reassuring laughs of the others. Tonight was his night, K had clasped him on the back while they were at Aglionby and whispered those words into his ear before their first class had started. He didn’t take his eyes off from his notebook and didn’t manage to speak a word, his head running with thoughts about who’s insides would be used to christen him into a killer with the sin of taking a life instead of being the one who simply joined in on the mutilation after the body stopped twitching and the chest ceased it heaving.

 

           He had drowned them before, he would convince a girl from the public high school to take off her clothes with him and swim in the lake in the middle of a dense forest. He never had to push, he would go forth into the cool water and wade up to his knees and wait. It was almost a shame that she looked so beautiful in the silvery moonlight with a bashful smile on her face and her hands tentatively covering her breasts. He fell into a pattern, leaning in for a kiss and she melted in his arms letting go of all caution, caution she should’ve held to tighter than she was holding him.

 

           Maybe it was regret from something he didn’t do yet that made his throat tighten, but it released and allowed him to breathe again when his hand was clasped around her throat and her head shoved below the surface of the water. His dark eyes were hard and unforgiving through it all, until the last bubbles of air escaped her lungs as well and the will to fight back and thrash around and he let go, allowing her body to float to the surface. The look of horror on her face transformed into a serene stare as she looked at the night sky with dead, glassy eyes.

 

           Kavinsky had been watching the whole time, he had come out onto the shore followed by the rest and they had become his audience, cheering at his victory and her demise. Proko had kept eye contact with K as he dragged her body out of the lake and dressed her back up in the dress she wore to meet him. His stare was meant to say that he was something worth wanting, that if Kavinsky didn’t stop going after somebody who didn’t care enough to kill for him, he could be done waiting and find somebody else.

 

           Skov had pulled out his father’s golf club the heavy head of it dragging along the asphalt towards the car, “Are we going to do this or what? I’m tired of waiting around, my dick’s gonna go soft.”

 

           Kavinsky had laughed the loudest and he ran up to him, reaching for the Dane’s hand, “Proko makes the first move tonight and you take another step, babe, I’ll stick that club up your tight little ass.” His smile and accompanying wink looked more like he had complimented the other instead of threatened him and wrenched Skov back to the circle, “But seriously, somebody’s gonna have to give me a blowjob to keep me primed for this if we’re gonna be doing this for the next hour before we get some fucking action.”

 

           “I—Let’s do it now.” Prokopenko had finally croaked, taking hold of the lead pipe with a chain wrapped around it in a small and heavy bundle. The force of the swing should be enough to fracture the skull, and the way Kavinsky liked it was if they were still somewhat alive before they would shatter the bones and go off.

 

           His palms were slick with sweat and he fumbled with lifting the hood, the orange light from the streetlamps illuminated the face of the boy who was bound and gagged in the trunk, wearing a pristine Aglionby sweater.

 

           “Order up, bitch.” His jaw was clenched and his teeth grinded down onto each other as he pulled the young boy, a freshman, from the car by his collar and threw him down onto the street. His knees had pinned the frail shoulders down and he lifted the pipe above his head, with him on top—he didn’t give a shit about what it was that Kavinsky had wanted. This kill was going to be his and he was going to put the remains of this kid through the meat grinder. He was going to tap out his name in morse code on the skull of his victim until there was nothing but a sludge left and he couldn’t believe that he was afraid of this all day. He didn’t recognize the teenaged boy who had run to the bathroom and dry heaved over a toilet before lunch when he thought about this very moment.

 

           The arc of the pipe was smooth as it came down without hesitation, shit, he could do this for a living.

 

                It was a killing blow.


	2. trust fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You should be proud, we’re gonna use your pretty little insides to do some interior decorating.” He pulled out a carving knife he dreamed up specially for the occasion and let the cool edge of the blade drag against her skin. "It's sharp, see how well that took that hair off?" His voice was always so clear when he used conviction, to Proko they sounded like they were meant for his ears and his ears alone and the sideways glance he would get from him was enough to cement that feeling. “Do you see _my_ boy there?” A finger was pointed towards him, “You should be thanking me for drugging him up because he’s a fucking feral _fucking_ dog and his pretty face would’ve torn you to pieces. Oh, I love the fucking bastard for that, but I want _you_ to think about the mercy dear old K gave you tonight. Do you got that?”

            It was a rash move to pick somebody from Aglionby, a student from people who didn’t go missing without having 30 million dollar ransoms made for within 24 hours. Swan had suggested to contact them through email that would bounce off of Sudanese servers and then never get back to them to ease the suspicion off of murder in a way. Jiang disagreed vehemently and claimed that within time, if they didn’t continue contact and left the case cold, the trail would lead to them. Somehow. Some way. Skov had already asked his father about extradition law Denmark had with the U.S. and worked himself up into a frenzy. They had money and with K beside them, they had everything they could ever hope to need if bailing out of the country was an option they would have to take.

            Proko didn’t contribute much to the brainstorming and Kavinsky didn’t bother with any of it. There wasn’t a care in his mind when the police had come in to investigate the kid’s circles of acquaintances .

            “Who cares?” Kavinsky had been around the prospect of arrest and death for much of his life and it showed with how lasseiz-faire he was in this situation, “He’s dead and there’s nothing they can fucking do for him.” He had been growing antsy from the week they had laid low, throwing the same parties as if they had nothing to do with the disappearance and hunkering down in the same basement when the drugs were different and made their bodies tingle and feel like they were floating. “Let loose and have some fun before I kill one of you instead.”

            It was like they were instantly animated by the threat, suggesting what it was that they would do for the night or tomorrow night all at once. Who they should go after, where they should look for people.

            “Dream up a New York plate and a basic ass car and we can hit the city and come back before school tomorrow.” Jiang had perked up, with his father back in China on the run from embezzling charges from the SEC he was taking as many precautions as he could to not end up in the same place as his dad. Not that their loft in the posh end of Beijing was any bad but the government had him under his thumb and under watch constantly. And that one night in jail before K had come to pay the cops off was bad enough for him. It seemed like the thought of imprisonment had followed him everywhere he went.

            Skov pushed in beside with an energy drink mixed with vodka in his hand, “What did I miss?” He looked around, the silver flask shining in his inner blazer pocket. They stood in a circle on the green lawn in front of the school, their voices hushed. He utilized some of his quick thinking and made it seem that their near silence was attributed to a killer hangover.

            “K wants to do it again tonight.” Swan murmured, looking behind him and also managing to look awfully suspicious. The only time the pack wasn’t suspicious was when they were loud and conspicuous.

            “Or one of us is next.” Proko said, looking only guiltier than he had before. Their hiatus was because of him, because he snatched up the first person who had even looked at him the wrong way that day instead of choosing somebody that was far away from them and nearly impossible for them to link back to. But the way Kavinsky had kissed him out of zeal, grabbing both sides of his head after the dull clank of the metal hit the ground, when it felt like the world was spinning around him, he held onto K’s shoulders and let himself be grounded by the force of the gleeful kiss. But the words he said still echoed in his mind, it bothered him in the same way his knees went weak when the job was done that night.

            _You’re a real boy now._

            “Listen up, sluts.” K grinned, “We’re gonna have a good time tonight so fucking hold on to your scrotum. My house after school, I’ll get us a ride by then.” They all nodded and dispersed, Jiang trailing after Skov for a sip of his drink and Swan finding a tree to stretch out and lie down at the base of like a lazy cat. Kavinsky didn’t even have to think twice about whether or not Proko would be right beside him, there wasn’t a moment where he could even doubt such a thing. He put his arm around the other’s neck jovially, the other boy took notice of every part of K’s body that made contact with his. His skin tingled where their chests would bump before they fell into step on their way to class.

            It was all a haze, like a gray smoke had fallen over the memory of the day like when Prokopenko had tried to remember the specifics from his own childhood. But it all lifted when K had driven up to the driveway in a black sedan, there he was standing around with Swan while the other two were grabbing snacks from the general store for the road trip. Albena stood there in a white tank top and jeans behind the screen door looking distant and unapproachable, like she saw through them and her focus was on an object a thousand miles away. So, basically, she looked like she did everyday. She didn’t move except for when they drove off, so she could close the door and retreat back into the mansion.

* * *

 

            He was drawn back to it all when he heard her scream. They had pulled her from a warehouse rave in the corner of the Bronx, her body was lathered in black light paint and the only things she wore was some type of fabric that closely resembled brightly colored tissue paper. She was begging through the rag they stuffed in her mouth as she was dragged into the dilapidated house that smelled strongly of urine. Broken glass reflected off the ground where the windows had been smashed in from the outside, Jiang had heard that crackheads would make their way there and they were always easy targets if they they ended up crashing the party.

            Swan grabbed her by the jaw and threw her head into a wall, “Shut the _fuck_ up.” The tears were rolling down her cheeks in droves, she was past the point of hysterics and to the stage where she slowly accepted it. Maybe you shouldn’t buy Molly from strangers when they tell you that you have to come to their car to get it.

            But it was their oversight that they flourished in, in the shadows of clouded minds and through the cracks in the foundation they slithered through to take hold of what they wanted.

            Proko’s head swam at the sight before him, Kavinsky hovering over the girl with a wolfish grin. It was almost as if it were all taking place in slow motion and revolving around him, he reached out and blindly grabbed at Jiang’s jacket, who had caught him as he had fallen down, not even noticing that he did so. His vision was muddled as he was laid down onto the ground, essentially incapacitated and wondered if this was what Kavinsky had planned for him. Maybe this was what he deserved after what he did the other night.

            Skov leaned down and patted Proko’s cheek almost with a look of pity etched into his features, “Sorry, but K didn’t like that you didn’t let us in on the fun.” He felt his hands go numb and the loss of feeling work up his arms, he tried to read for the other’s arm before he left but he only managed hit it before giving up and letting his own drop to the floor.

            Kavinsky’s words echoed, lagging three seconds behind his actions as he wrapped the girl’s long blonde hair around his fist and banged his knee into her face with a sickening force, the crunch of the cartilage wasn't something he would ever get used to, “You’re a sweet girl, aren’t you?” They were distorted and it hurt his brain to process it but he couldn’t help but try and understand what was going on in front of him, using it as an anchor to gaining some kind of control over his body and his mind. The next thing he knew was Kavinsky had his boot pressed down on the girl’s throat, did they even know her name? Did they care?

            “You should be proud, we’re gonna use your pretty little insides to do some interior decorating.” He pulled out a carving knife he dreamed up specially for the occasion and let the cool edge of the blade drag against her skin. "It's sharp, see how well that took that hair off?" His voice was always so clear when he used conviction, to Proko they sounded like they were meant for his ears and his ears alone and the sideways glance he would get from him was enough to cement that feeling. “Do you see _my_ boy there?” A finger was pointed towards him, “You should be thanking me for drugging him up because he’s a fucking feral _fucking_ dog and his pretty face would’ve torn you to pieces. Oh, I love the fucking bastard for that, but I want _you_ to think about the mercy dear old K gave you tonight. Do you got that?” He waited for a nod but when he didn’t get it he threw a left hook and a muffled sob came from her before he repeated the question.

            This time she nodded, shoulders shaking and you could visibly see the moment that she had given her hope up, they had been working up to the moment where her heart had sunk to the floor and the boys hadn’t looked any happier than this. This part was almost as good as the kill, and it made them feel warm inside in a special way little other than drugs or sex could.

            This was nice vacation for the five of them. When they were done they opened a capsule with a bloody hand onto Prokopenko’s tongue that had sent a sickening jolt of sobriety through him that he lay on the floor shuddering uncontrollably before Swan had gotten him up onto his feet. The girl laid there with her intestines strung up and hanging from the ceiling, her organs sitting in different corners of the room, and her heart in Kavinsky's hands. He was covered in blood and it almost made Proko's stomach reel thinking about the girl who was probably kept alive until the very last moment where she had her heart cut out by this monster. It was a lot different when you weren't on the killing side, and sure K was a monster but it didn't keep Proko's pulse from rising in a carnal matter every time he looked at him. It didn't keep Proko from promising to murder for him again and again for as long as he would let him, but he was afraid. And that was exactly what was expected of him.

            “W-w-hy did you do that?” His body was shivering, he could feel his brain start to work again and take control of his body parts, he was leaning on the person who helped him up for support until he could push off of him and lunge towards Kavinsky who hopped out of reach before arms reached out and pulled Proko back.

            “Did you think I was going to kill you?” It was never sincere with him, like every word that came out of his despicable mouth was a joke, like he was laughing at the unsaid accusation, “You’re here and alive so, I guess that’s what matters.” He didn’t have to say it but Proko could hear them as clear in his own head, he could even hear the smile in the voice.

            **_But I thought about it._**


	3. reverberations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proko struggles with trusting his pack

            Gasps of breath were painful and sharp like a blade in his side, vision fuzzy and dark as he lay in the middle of the empty garage. His bones were crushed and his body was broken and pain wrung him out and left him to dry on hooks, Proko knew he was at the mercy of the others but with the way his heartbeat pounded in his ears he didn’t know what they were saying. He didn’t want to know what they were planning to do with his body and he didn’t want to know if they were going to leave him here for days or if they were going to bury him alive.

He could already feel the pressure of the dirt they piled on him breaking him further, the moist earth that would fill his mouth when he tried to open it to scream because _the pain_ , he couldn’t take the pain anymore. Death was his final release and all he could do was wait. Wait for the final blow or the jagged cut of a serrated knife opening his throat, hearing the shriek of his trachea as the air whistled through with his dying breaths. The boy was all too familiar with the details to keep him mind from them, there wasn’t anything more they could do to make the suffering afterwards have any actual effect on him.

A little more pain wouldn’t make a difference when the numbing set in.

 

He woke up sitting up straight the moment he broke into consciousness, he checked if his body was intact with trembling hands and clammy skin. The sweat soaked sheets clung to him, and his heart hammered against his ribcage taking entire minutes before the rate petered off into something more normal. Prokopenko repeated the same muttered mantra over the past week, it came from him before he ever realized what it was that was happening but it soothed the frayed nerves that were coming undone ever since that night in New York.

He flinched whenever Kavinsky had moved towards him, tried to keep his space between them without it being too noticeable. His body would freeze for a second when K would sling his arm over Proko’s neck on their way to class, fear trickling away like sand in an hourglass with time—but it was nights like this that would flip it all over and have him start from the beginning.

There was a pill bottle in the drawer of his nightstand, an old medication he’d gotten when it was hard for him to fall asleep. He had buried it underneath papers and random miniature bottles he filled with whiskey, it reminded him too much of being rendered immobile and helpless and he had enough of that as it was but throwing it out wasn’t an option. There would be a time when he wished he hadn’t and would regret getting rid of it, and his preference would be to not come crawling back to Kavinsky for help.

It was hard for the strange hatred he felt for him to last, he could already feel it fading as the days went by, he would reach out to the others and surprise would register on their faces. His best to hide his fear wasn’t enough to slip past them, even in their inebriated states they noticed the small things, like the extra moments he would take to get out of his car after everybody else was waiting for him. They possibly even knew the thoughts running through his mind, about how he could put the car back into drive and keep going until the Golf broke down. He’d take his chances on the highway with the truckers if he needed to. They knew he wouldn’t, they knew he wouldn’t dare.

At this point, there was no turning back, no running away, there was nothing and nobody else other than them.


End file.
